Fun With Jack and Sally
by GlitterFrog
Summary: Left alone after Oogie Boogie's ignoble demise, Lock, Shock, and Barrel end up crashing at Skellington Manor with the Pumpkin King and his dearest friend. Who's going to be more shaken up?
1. Hungry Hungry Mischief Makers

A/N: This is the first time I've published something here that hasn't been written out to completion on notebook paper. Hope you enjoy, and that I don't disappoint anyone who chooses to follow or review! Reviewers get a cup of snake and spider stew and a whole lot of eternal gratitude.

Fun With Jack and Sally

a Lock, Shock, and Barrel friendship _and _a JackxSally

Hungry Hungry Mischief Makers

_Knock knock knock_ The trio froze. Barrel stopped licking his ever-present lollipop. Shock's fist paused around Lock's tail, and Lock's teeth stilled in the top of Shock's ear. For a moment, nobody moved. Then, as if on an unspoken cue, all three thawed at once. Lock went for a pitchfork that was sticking out of the wall while Shock pushed Barrel behind her with one foot. Barrel squatted down and scooped up a scorpion that was scuttling across the floor. Then the trio crept around the couch: Barrel behind Shock, and Shock slightly behind Lock. The three could count on one hand the number of people that knew they even lived out here. They'd had prisoners and they'd had rescue raids (mostly headed by Jack), along with the rare summons from the Mayor after one misdemeanor too many. They'd never had a reason to look forward to company. And they'd certainly never had anyone who _knocked._ The Mayor yelled through his megaphone. Jack broke in and usually didn't bother to ascend beyond the gambling pit. Oogie never- well, HAD never- left his pit, and he'd bellowed when he'd wanted their attention.

Lock hefted the pitchfork over his shoulder and edged towards the little landing that opened out of the tree. The cage teetered, occupied by a more unwieldy payload than it was used to. A tall figure squatted awkwardly inside, clinging to the bars as it swayed rather alarmingly. The three shrank back. "It's Jack!" squawked Barrel, in his loudest whisper. "I _knew_ that raiding the pumpkin patch was a dumb idea!" hissed Lock. Shock folded her arms. "You expect me to make a meal out of three crusty centipede segments and some raspberry tea?"

"Shhh- maybe we can pretend we didn't do it," Barrel gulped, huddling between the other two. "Oh, I'm sure they'd believe us," Lock snorted, making no effort to rein in his scorn. "Shhhh- shut up." Shock ordered. Lock's hands balled into fists. "You know, I've about had it up to here-" and he indicated the space between his horns- "With you telling me to—" Then he heard it too. A yelp. A small, feminine yelp. All three listened carefully. "That's not Jack," Lock muttered.

Shock rolled her eyes, saying _Duh_ without wasting her breath doing so. Barrel tipped his head. "Who is it?" Shock flipped the outside light on. Two wide eyes immediately squinched in protest. Sally blinked rapidly as her neck involuntarily craned back a few inches. Lock smacked Barrel in the back of the head. "How'd you mistake _her_ for _Jack_?" "We're not out of the woods yet," mumbled Shock, slowly sliding a medieval flail off of the couch. Lock's eyes widened. "You don't think…" "…That Jack sent her?" Barrel squeaked. "Maybe he did and maybe he didn't." Shock ventured a few feet closer and glowered at the conspirator in question. Sally didn't look angry, nor did she seem particularly preoccupied with dreaming up new and awful punishments. She just wobbled there, squinting, doing her best to keep a large covered bundle balanced in her lap. Lock edged in front of Shock and poked suspiciously at the blanket covering the bundle while the witch girl ran one finger slowly along one of the flail's spikes. "What's in there?" "It's for you." The ragdoll replied. The trio exchanged a three-way look of alarm.

Barrel peeked out from around the brim of Shock's hat as Lock snagged a corner of the hand-stitched blanket and unceremoniously yanked. The other two held their breaths and Lock's jaw tightened as the blanket puddled around Sally's knees to reveal—a basket with a pumpkin pie in it? The devil boy's grimace of intense concentration shifted to a scowl of utmost suspicion as he slowly pulled the pie out. "What's wrong with it?" "Nothing!" Sally replied, her voice rising a little as the change in balance and a small gust of wind sent the cage swaying further than she'd been acclimating to. She recovered, but still looked a little bit shaken. Shock got as up in her face as she could without actually stepping out of the tree and plummeting into the fog below. "And why should we believe anything you say?" "It tastes like just pie to me," Barrel mumbled. Lock and Shock whirled around to find their youngest comrade munching on a handful he'd scooped out of the tin.

"_Barrel_!" Shock shrieked, both angry and dismayed. "Here- you try some." And before she could recoil, he'd stuck a dollop between her lips. The bossy trick-or-treater spluttered and screwed up her face to spit. Lock watched as her expression melted into one of dreamy-eyed bliss. She swallowed. As Lock glared daggers at her, the witch girl sheepishly offered, "I- I didn't taste any poison." "She could have ground something up so we couldn't taste it!" Lock yelled, exasperated. The other two weren't listening to him. Lock wavered, arms folded tight to his small chest distrustfully. In the end, the drool-inducing mellow smell won out. It wasn't long before all three were on their knees, pawing huge hunks out of the pie and stuffing them into their mouths, trying to get the offering from the tin to their tummies as fast as they possibly could. Sally managed, through some trial and error, to scramble into the relative safety of the weapon-riddled living room. Not a child noticed. Far too soon, all three were sucking the last tidbits from between their fingers and scraping along the bottom of the fairly battered pie tin.

Sally knelt next to Barrel. Shock stared at her warily. "You came all the way over here to give us a pie?" The redheaded experiment shook her head. "No." She shifted her leg out of a curious cockroach's path. "I came all the way over here to invite you to dinner." "And why should we go to dinner with you?" demanded Lock, still smelling a trick. Her gentle eyes met his. "Because a little bit of pumpkin isn't going to be enough for three growing trick-or-treaters." The three exchanged another group look. Round one went to the ragdoll.


	2. Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?

When Jack opened his door, he was greeted by three upturned faces and a guilty-looking girlfriend. The three scooted around him, never taking their eyes off his face or making any sudden moves, then slipped into the house and followed the smell of food. Jack tried to catch Sally's eye. She shut the door behind her and hung up three masks. "Please be mad at me later." "Mad? Sally, I'm not mad at you- I'm just…" A small crash, followed by several clinks, reverberated from the dining room, making both cringe. "Oops," came Lock's voice. Jack and Sally stared at each other for a few moments. Then Jack finished, "I'm just questioning your sanity." At this point, Sally sort of was too. * * * *

Once the grown-ups found out that nothing had been broken (Lock had accidentally pulled down a plate and a napkin full of silverware while he'd been trying to see over the edge of the table), everyone sat down and had a look at the goodies. All three trick-or-treaters stared curiously at the pot steaming pleasantly in the center of the dining room table. "Is that snake and spider stew?" Shock asked, pointing. Jack shook his skull. "No. It's stew, but it's vegetable stew." "Vegetable?" murmured Lock. "How weird," whispered Barrel. Sally uncovered a basket of fresh rolls while Jack ladled out portions of stew and reached around to serve everyone without once having to get out of his seat. The trio started to drool. "Those rolls.." Shock mumbled. "Look good!" Lock finished. The second that Jack had selected his rolls, Shock snatched the basket, actually scaring Jack a little.

Lock tried to pull it away from her and was rewarded with an elbow to the eyeball. Bowls bounced and silverware jittered across the table as the two trick-or-treaters engaged each other in a foot fight of steadily escalating violence. Zero tucked his tail and materialized behind Jack's legs. Barrel jabbed his spoon down, making a few fruitless attempts to sample the stew. Jack and Sally held onto the good glasses and did their best to keep the table on at least three legs. "Lock—" Sally tried. Her soft voice was lost in the fray. "Listen, you two!" Jack barked. At the king's command, Lock and Shock paused in mid-bruising, and their glowers showed fear and just a hint of curiosity. Sally squeezed Jack's hand in gratitude and tried again. "Lock…" The devil boy's sharp eyes flicked to her face, and she had to fight the urge to look away. Sally gestured to Shock. "Why don't you _ask_ Shock to pass the rolls?" The devil boy regarded their ragdoll host with surprise. No one had ever _asked_ for anything in their tree house before…

Under Jack's watchful sockets, Lock turned to his cohort. "Hey, stupid- can you gimme the rolls?" Shock shook her head. 'I'm not done with them yet, butthead." She took two, plopped them onto Barrel's plate, and managed to snatch one more before Lock lost patience and wrested the basket from her hands. The witch girl growled and dropped some butter into his lap. Both Jack and Sally tensed and held their breaths, but mercifully the admittedly tense exchange did not culminate in further combat. Soon the atmosphere in the high-ceilinged dining room was dominated by contented slurping and the clink of silverware. Zero still wouldn't budge until Jack got up to help clear the table. * * * *

Meanwhile, the overburdened clouds overhead reached their breaking point, and rain began to hiss onto the dead grass.


	3. Bedtime Implies Sleeping At Some Point

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who favorited or decided to follow! (hugs you all) CartoonCaster21, I hope that this chapter is easier to read. Anyway- on with the mania! Reviewers will _not_ have the terrible trio acting up in their houses at night! (…just kidding. Sort of. Behave, you three.) I don't own anyone in Halloween Town. Sigh.

Three noses left smudges on the windowpanes as six hands overcrowded the available gripping space on the sill. Barrel's eyes were big as thunder cracked nearby.

"It's really coming down." Shock turned to Lock. "Do you think we can get home in this?" The leader of the trio answered her with a confidence that he did not feel.

"Of course we can."

The three stared dubiously out at the silver-sheeted world. They could barely see Jack's yard, which was beginning to flood. A fork of bluish lightning, followed by a crack of thunder that sounded like the world was splitting apart, sent the trio scrambling back from the window. Shock clapped both hands over her ears. Lock cringed into an arm of the couch, and Barrel hid between two cushions. Jack's living room seemed twice as dark to their dazzled eyes once the fury had passed. As the door nearest the kitchen creaked open, they instinctively huddled into a clot and simultaneously turned to face the doorway. * * * *

Streaks of dark precipitation were reflected in Sally's worried eyes as she gazed out at the turmoil of howling wind and whipping rain. Every so often she'd take a step back to allow Jack enough room to finish his latest lap of pacing. The Pumpkin King's bony brow was furrowed; his sockets pinched with deep thought and concern.

"The weather's horrendous," he muttered, half to himself, "I wouldn't send out a cockroach on a night like this."

For a couple of minutes, the clicking of his bones on the tile and the hammering of the rain against the manor had the floor. Then, skeleton and ragdoll simultaneously blurted out, "Maybe-"

Jack stopped short. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sally-" His girlfriend twisted one hand shyly. "Oh, no, Jack- you go ahead…"

One short politeness war later, Jack ventured, "Maybe- maybe they should stay the night here."

A relieved smile spread across Sally's soft red lips. She'd been thinking the very same thing, but hadn't wanted to impose on Jack as she was a guest at the manor herself.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

When he stared at her as if she'd sprouted wings, the gentle ragdoll added, "'Wonderful' meaning it's the right thing to do, and I'm proud of you."

He hugged her tight. "I'll go tell them." * * * *

Jack walked in. The trio noticeably tensed.

"Don't be afraid," the skeleton king told them. They continued to stare at him as if they were waiting for him to spit acid from his eye sockets. He knelt down and beckoned for them to come closer. Reluctantly, they shuffled a few feet towards him. Lock's hand slipped into his pocket and felt the reassuring weight of a stinkbomb. Shock looked ready to get between the king and the other two at any given moment. Jack picked up on the tension and spoke as gently as he could.

"With the storm going like it is, Sally and I have decided that we want you to stay here for the night."

Six eyes grew big as candied apples. Three mouths opened to launch protests that were quenched by another explosion of thunder. Tearing his eyes away from the group, Lock twisted his tail and muttered, "Alright."

Jack nodded and stood up. "If you follow me, I'll show you to your room."

The three trotted after the Pumpkin King as he headed upstairs. When they were partway up, Lock pointed. "Look!"

Barrel saw. "A light!"

"That must be it." Shock declared.

She led the charge to the top of the stairs and tore down a long hallway. The witch girl darted into the lit room with a cackle of delight.

"Look at that great bed! _DIBS_!"

"What?!" Lock stormed in after her. "You don't get dibs! _I_do!"

While Lock and Shock bickered, Barrel crawled onto the bed and snuggled into the waiting blanket.

Jack watched from the doorway, looking a little bit lost. "That's _my _bed._" _

None of the trio heeded him. Shock started jumping on the bed, which irritated Lock because he hadn't thought of it first. Sally slid past Jack, touching his hand in a silent _excuse me._

The patchwork redhead caught Shock in mid-spring. "Your room's down by mine."

Shock tipped her head. "You and Jack don't sleep in the same room?"

It was impossible to tell which grown-up was more flustered by the question. Sally ducked her head, twisted her ankles together, and stammered, "W-wuh-well, no. No. We d-don't."

"Heh-heh, we're not married," Jack added, laughing nervously and scrubbing the back of his skull with one hand as though he was hoping to get his head to a fine kingly sheen.

Sally set Shock down and practically fled from the room. The boys climbed down from the bed and joined Shock.

As the three trotted back down the hallway, Barrel whispered, "What's being married got to do with it?"

"I'll bet she snores, and they just don't want to admit it," Lock whispered back.

This thought made the three snicker all the way to their room. While Jack furnished their guest room with extra pillows and blankets, Sally showed the trio where the bathroom was and asked if they needed anything. She was met with three shakes no.

Her expression turned to one of surprise. "You don't want to brush your teeth?"

A group look of disbelief. More head shaking. Surprise turned to something straddling concern and squeamishness. "What about washing your faces?"

Lock looked at her as if she had suggested taking an indefinite vacation to Valentine Town. "Why would we do _that_?" * * * *

(Ten minutes later)

Lock scowled at the softly glowing nightlight. His arms were folded tightly over his tiny chest. "Oogie never made us brush our teeth."

"Or wash our faces." Shock mumbled.

"_And_ he never scrubbed behind our ears," Barrel added, wincing. "Mine still hurt."

Lock nodded, looking almost sympathetic. "I never saw so much fuss over a few patches of mildew." They stared at the ceiling for a few minutes.

Then, Lock declared, "I'm not tired."

"Me neither," Shock and Barrel agreed.

Shock sat up. "Let's go out-"

Lock grinned. "And stretch-"

"-Our legs!" Barrel finished, grinning even wider. * * * *

Sally sat bolt upright in bed, her stuffed heart pounding. There it was again: a long series of thumps ending, if she really listened for it, a faint _thunk._ The sounds, she realized, were the reason she'd had nightmares of being trapped in a cabin during a hailstorm almost as soon as she'd gone to sleep. The rain was still pounding, but the other din was clearly audible. The clever creation strained her ears and made out muffled giggling. She relaxed without knowing that she'd tensed, and let out a silent sigh of relief. It was only Lock, Shock, and Barrel. But what in the world were they doing up? The clock in the corner read just after one in the morning. Sally listened again. It sounded like they were on the stairs. Sure enough, one too many squeaking, creaking steps later, the thumping started again. The quiet redhead laid back down and stared up at the ceiling in disbelief. They'd been at this for just under two _hours_?

As the footsteps creaked closer, Barrel's voice floated through the wall.

"Shock got to ride down fifty-nine times and I've only gone fifty-seven times!"

"Okay, okay, you can take an extra turn," Lock told him.

"O-kay!"

_Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump _

Sally jammed a pillow over her face and crushed either side against the sides of her head. At two-fifteen, she gave up, pulled a blanket over her nightgown, and took refuge in Jack's room.


	4. Come On, Vamonos!

Sally woke to the back of a hand stroking her cheek. She smiled, sighed a soft sigh of contentment, and leaned into the caresses as her eyes slowly fluttered open. The moment she saw Jack's face, memories of the wee hours came rushing back.

"Oh!" She sat up and tried to kick off her cocoon of blankets. "Jack, I'm **so** sorry that I came in without ask-"

A fingerbone touched her lips. The master of fright bent down and pressed a feather-light kiss to her nose. The gentle ragdoll smiled and scuffed one foot under the sheets.

Jack set a plate down on the nightstand and sat down beside her. "Don't be sorry."

His fingers stroked through her pillow-mussed hair. "You don't ever have to be sorry for giving me your company."

Sally saw that she was no longer on the floor, but tucked snugly into his bed. She kissed his hand. He really was too kind. He smiled at her, then picked up the plate again and carefully set it in her lap. Sally looked down. It was a piece of toast, browned just the way she liked it, topped with two side-by-side sunny-side-up eggs. The crusts had been shaped into a smile just underneath the butter pat 'nose'. She giggled softly. Jack smiled, imitating the toast, making her laugh more. As he rested his head on her shoulder, Sally noticed that he was fully dressed. At the same time, she noticed that the sun was shining brightly through the windows.

"Oh," she breathed, "It's late."

"You were exhausted," Jack gently told her.

Her lips set to one side. "Funny you should mention that.."

"_**JAAAACK**_!"

The amplified plea rattled the plate of toast. Jack strode to the window and saw the Mayor standing atop his hearse, waving as though he was trying to flag down an ambulance.

The Pumpkin King sighed. "I've got to get going." He cupped her cheek. "Hold that thought."

"Will do."

They stared into each others' eyes (or lack thereof) for a moment, then simultaneously leaned forward for a quick but warm touching of lips. Jack rumpled Sally's hair, provoking another giggle from her, and reluctantly jogged downstairs.

Partway down, he hollered up, "Should I wake Oogie's boys?"

"No, I'll get them ready and take them back home on my way down to the witches' shop," she called down to him.

"Thanks, Doll!"

"Go get 'em, Bone Daddy!"

A few unnaturally long strides later, the front door slammed. Sally watched from the window as she nibbled on one of the eggs, a fond smile playing across her lips as Jack made calming gestures in the hyperventilating Mayor's direction and climbed into the hearse. They chugged through the gates, pulled into the street, and puttered off in a cloud of foul exhaust. As she turned away from the window, Sally caught sight of a small paper sack sitting on the floor beside the nightstand.

"Oh! Jack's lunch!"

She set the plate down and loped down the hallway as fast as she dared to push her patchwork body. Two minutes later, she burst out of her room in a proper dress and a black-and-purple cap that hid her bedhead.

The gentle redhead grabbed Jack's lunchbag, limped downstairs, and nearly flew out the door, breathlessly calling, "Zero, watch the house!"

_Slam._

In the guest bedroom, three little grins widened.

"Did you hear that?" Barrel whispered.

Shock rubbed her greenish hands together. "What should we do first?"

Lock stood up on the mattress. "Go exploring, of course! How often are we going to be alone in Skellington Manor?"

Shock frowned. "But Sally-"

"Are you kidding?" Lock scoffed, "Do you know how long it takes for her to hobble _anywhere_?"

Shock's toothy grin returned.

"YAY!" the trio exclaimed, and hopped down to the carpeted floor. * * * *

After a quick pitstop in the kitchen, the trio headed straight for Jack's room. Barrel climbed into the electric chair and munched on his waffle-Nutella-honey-Snoball-peanut butter-and-cheese sandwich while Lock went through Jack's desk and Shock pulled books off the king's bookshelves. Zero whined as a dollop of syrup and cheese plopped onto the floor. Lock held up a chain of paper snowflakes, examined it, and tossed it aside in favor of continuing the search for something more interesting. Shock held up a volume to the light as she knelt on one of the movable ladder's steps.

"'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?"

"Pokemon cards?" Lock muttered.

Shock squinted in disbelief at a thick purple pop-up book. "'A Brony's Guide to Equestria'? Really?"

Lock set a fistful of bills and coins from around the world on the desktop next to a multicolored rubber band ball and several ribbons of various shades and sizes. Barrel squatted on one arm of the chair, leaning out to pet a snoozing spider. Zero whined and tugged at the brim of Shock's hat. She brushed him off and peered at an unabridged dictionary that was nearly half her size. The ghost dog moved on to Lock and nipped at the devil boy's tail, growling in disapproval. He was rewarded with a pink rubber band to his glowing snout. Zero snorted, shook his head several times, and sneezed once (making his nose flare like a firework). Casting one last reproachful glance at the terrible trio, the little dog misted out the window. None of the three really paid him any heed.

Several fistfuls of Halloween blueprints, various quasi-assorted papers, a plastic drinking bird, a windup frog, and a stress ball shaped like a sandworm plopped onto Jack's chair as Lock climbed down from the royal desk.

"I'm bored."

"Yeah, let's look somewhere else before we completely lose respect for our so-called 'king'," Shock agreed.

Barrel bade a goodbye to the groggy spider, clambered down from the chair's arm, and fell on his hiney. 

"Come on!" Lock called impatiently from the doorway.

Rubbing the seat of his pants, the skeleton boy jogged over to his cohorts. Midway down the hall, Shock stopped at the bathroom. The boys filed in after her. She stepped on their shoulders, then heads, and pulled herself up onto the bathroom counter.

"Ow! Hey!" Barrel complained.

"Hey! Watch it!" Lock snapped.

Ignoring them both, the crazy-haired girl opened the medicine cabinet and grinned.

"Ooh."

"What? Let me see!" Lock demanded.

Barrel, meanwhile, had found a box of dental floss and was curious as to just how much floss was actually spooled up inside it.

"Let's guess who uses what!" Shock suggested, and held up a black can. "Skull polish."

Lock tapped his chin. "Oooooh- tough one."

They all dissolved into a brief fit of snickering.

Recovering, Shock examined a bottle of perfume. "I really hope this is Sally's."

"What's in it- fabric softener?" Lock cracked.

For some reason, this remark really tickled Barrel, and Lock eventually had to headbutt him to get him to shut up. Holding his tummy and glowering ruefully at Lock, Barrel scooted a ways away where he could conduct his floss experiment out of assault range. After going through several items of an uninteresting nature (such as cologne, spare tubes of toothpaste, toothpicks, and nail files), Shock found a prize. She held it aloft and crowed. Both boys put down their respective floss and toilet paper and craned their necks to see. Shock hopped down, laughing so hard that she nearly fell flat on her nose. Lock snatched the bottle from her and read the label. He too became infected with hysteria.

"Let me see! Let me see!" begged Barrel.

When Lock finally calmed down enough to give Barrel a glance, the younger boy rolled on the tile floor. Neither Lock nor Shock could read aloud from the label without breaking down in howls, but they tried.

"'Crampies'-"

"Safe and-"

"Effective-"

"Relief for-"

"Unhappy…tummies!"

At last, wiping tears of excessive mirth from their eyes, the trio trotted down to Sally's room. Barrel brought the floss along. Lock examined the ragdoll's extensive assortment of needles and sewing scissors with an unhealthy interest. Barrel sat in the corner on a worn brass-studded chest and unspooled floss while Shock rifled through the room's one wardrobe. She tried on several handmade scarves and outfits and modeled them while imitating their owner's gait and mannerisms, much to the amusement of the boys. Lock sauntered over, pocketing a pair of particularly sharp scissors, and had a look inside the wardrobe. He found a sparkly box painted to look like a night sky and shook it. Its insides rustled.

"Hey! Maybe it's money!"

That got Shock and Barrel's full attention. The three climbed onto Sally's bed. Shock and Barrel crowded in on either side as Lock upended the box and dumped its contents onto the bed. Anticipation sagged into disappointment.

"Awww, it's just papers," Lock grumbled.

Barrel had a peek at one. It was covered with loopy, fancy script and had bats and hearts sketched in the margins.

"I think these are love letters!"

The trio's disappointment evaporated. Shock snatched up another folded paper to confirm this hypothesis.

Lock unfolded the paper nearest him, took it up, and began to read aloud. "Hello, Babydoll…."

A good five minutes passed before anyone was capable of properly exhaling again. They took turns narrating, occasionally pausing to wipe away more tears or launch into personal commentary. Shock found what was arguably the most entertaining document of the lot: a list of potential pet names that Sally had written down while brainstorming. These started off with 'Skeletal Strudel'. Eventually, the three were too nauseous to read on any further. Barrel wadded the letters back into their box as Lock and Shock amused themselves by playing tug-of-war with a plushie of Jack.

"It's so soft," Shock noted, poking vigorously at the plushie's tummy.

"She probably stuffed it with locks of her hair," snickered Lock.

"Actually, I used cobwebs."

The three twitched and turned slowly to face the doorway.

"Oops," mumbled Barrel. * * * *

It was a long and quiet trip back to Oogie's tree. Lock set a pace that was just behind Sally's steady limp.

"I can't believe our stupid bathtub ran away," Shock muttered.

"Well, it's never liked storms," Barrel reminded her.

Silence once more descended, awkward and stifling. Barrel quickened his pace just a bit and tapped on one of Sally's leg sutures. The clever experiment looked down.

He twisted his white hands. "Are- are you going to tell Jack about…the pumpkin?"

"No, Barrel. I'm not."

Her reply was terse but not snappish. Somehow, terse was worse. The group stopped just short of the tree. Lock, eager to get away from this tension as fast as possible, had dropped into a runner's crouch when he happened to look up. Shock dropped her bag, which landed on Barrel's toe. Barrel didn't so much as holler. Rusted segments of the feeding pipe jutted from the tree and the earth surrounding it like broken fingernails. The cage sprawled on its side, as dented as an old soda can. A weather vane stuck out of the ground like it was rising from the dead. Sally's tiny hands moved to her lips. The trio's living quarters, which had always been somewhat exposed to the elements to begin with, had been reduced to matchsticks.


	5. Manor Sweet Manor

The racket of hammering, sawing, and bickering swelled to fill the dead air. Two witches hovering near the roof of the Town Hall struggled to balance an unwieldy beam of wood between them.

"A little further to the left," the taller of the two ordered her companion.

The short, squat companion obeyed, sending them both into a giddy half-spiral.

"MY left!" squawked the taller witch, tipping nearly off her broom.

The shorter witch wobbled like an egg that's been set down on a kitchen counter, struggling to hold up her end of the beam. On the ground, the man with the axe in his head pushed a wheelbarrow full of bricks past the Harlequin Demon and the Mayor, as the latter held boards in place while the former hammered in nails. The Mayor shrieked as the hammer came down squarely on his thumb. Several townspeople turned towards the source of the piercing complaint. Testy from working under the hot jack-o-lantern sun, the bipolar politician shook the offended digit in the Harlequin's face.

"My thumb is not a nail!"

Every bit as crabby as his workmate, the Harlequin sneered, "Well, I can't help it if your fingers are fatter than mallow pumpkin candies!"

Straining to steady a ladder that the Behemoth was precariously perched upon, the Wolfman snarled, "Thumbs don't even really count as fingers!"

The demon threw down his hammer; the Mayor screeched and immediately began hopping around clutching his foot. "Yes they do!"

"_Rrr-_ no they don't!" the Wolfman insisted, his back legs straining as his feet scraped to stay put.

As the quarrel continued, Sally gingerly picked her way through a minefield of nails, splashes of paint, and various discarded tools of all shapes and sizes. Her eyes roved uncertainly over the workers, looking for anyone who wasn't either flying off the handle or engaged in a task that required uninterrupted hand-eye coordination. Her tiny hands folded, then unfolded, then folded again. The tear-away-face clown veered towards her, clasping several cans of paint in his arms. His unicycle teetered at an impossible angle.

"Looking for Jack?"

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"Last I saw, he was back that way." The clown pointed with a blue can of paint to the west.

"Oh. Thank you."

"Sure!" The creepy clown sped around to the back of the hall. His disappearance was followed very shortly by a crash and several metallic clunks. Sally winced. As it happened, Jack found her before she found him. He hailed her, a smile brightening his skull as he waved.

"Sally!"

The redheaded ragdoll smiled and waved back. The Pumpkin King met her halfway to his work area and offered her his arm. "Be careful- there's nails."

"I know." She took his arm. "Thank you."

Something in her expression caught his attention, and he stopped walking. "What's happened?" Then, out of the corner of his sockets, he noticed the three tiny shapes slouching in the shadow of the Mayor's hearse. * * * *

Every kid in the pews looked up as the Undersea Gal pulled the hall's side door open. The trio shuffled in quickly, keeping their heads down. A small mummy and a corpulent corpse boy hastily scooted down about half a pew. Lock led his cohorts to the freed space, and they all reluctantly sat down.

Shock picked moodily at a thread that was poking out of her black leggings. "'Go watch a movie with the other children', he says."

"Like we're too little to help with the repairs," Barrel added.

Lock glared at the television that had been set up on the stage at the front of the room, not really looking at the unnaturally colored animated figures on the screen.

"He was getting rid of us," the devil boy muttered darkly.

None of the three were really in the mood for a snack when the Undersea Gal started passing around napkins loaded with greasy stove-popped popcorn. * * * *

Jack and Sally sat on the front steps, deep in thought.

Jack frowned, tapping the side of his skull. "I can arrange for the tree house to be rebuilt, but starting from scratch like that will take some time."

"Maybe they could stay with the Corpse family, or someone else who has children," Sally suggested.

A spluttering emanated from the break tent as Mr. Corpse choked on his cup of refreshing lemonade. Other parents within earshot made themselves as small as possible.

Jack coughed awkwardly. "Good idea. Let's make that Plan B." He kneaded his lower jawbone with thumb and forefinger, frowning thoughtfully. "What about a human foster home?" he wondered, thinking out loud.

Almost instantly, both he and Sally declared, "No."

"That wouldn't be fair to the humans," Jack sighed.

The two were quiet for some time, mulling over their options.

"Well," Sally ventured, after a while, "Wherever they end up staying will have to be big enough for the original tenants to put some space between themselves and their guests, and vice versa."

Jack nodded. "Definitely. And a yard big enough for getting energy out is also a must."

"The owners will have to have a lot of food."

"_And_ enough authority to keep the three in line, like Oogie used t…." Jack trailed off. He looked at Sally and saw that she was already on board. The skeleton king rested his chin in one hand. "Fiddlesticks." * * * *

By the time the movie ended, most of the damage caused by the earlier storm had been repaired. As the other children left the hall with their parents, Jack and Sally met the trio in the center aisle.

"How was the movie?" Jack asked, kneeling down.

Barrel shivered. "All aboard the nope train!"

He, Lock, and Shock jogged in a circle, chanting in unison, "Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga NOPE NOPE!"

Jack chuckled. "Well, maybe next time we should show something G-rated."

Shock cut to the chase. "What is it, Jack?"

Jack clasped his hands. "I have some news for you." * * * *

"Whaaat?" Shock and Barrel yelped.

Lock's eyes snapped. "No way!"

Jack looked like he was developing a headache. "I know that this is going to be a big adjustment, but it'll only be for a little while- until we can get you settled into the tree again."

Lock's tail lashed. His fists tightened involuntarily at his sides. "You can't make us!"

The Pumpkin King's sockets hooded. "Actually, I can."

Lock scowled at his foot as it squeaked across the aisle's slick surface.

Shock elbowed him, as if to say, 'Good job, moron!'.

Lock shoved her, and Barrel took a step back. Shock's eyes narrowed, and she kicked Lock so hard that he squeaked.

Barrel yanked on Shock's arm. "Stop it!"

The witch girl whipped around and punched him in the nose. The tension that had been building inside them all afternoon exploded, and the three transformed into a screaming tangle of limbs and teeth. It happened so fast that Jack only reacted when the screams started.

He darted forward. "Hey hey hey!"

Barrel shrieked. Lock's tail audibly _thwack_ed on someone's flesh. Shock's teeth and nails flashed. Sally hurriedly hobbled to Jack's side, and both grownups reached into the fray. Jack didn't discriminate; he just grabbed two scruffs and pulled. He held Shock and Barrel as far apart as his arms would stretch. Sally scooped up Lock and restrained his arms as best she could. He continued to thrash and kick. Shock was screeching and Barrel was yelling and crying.

Jack's sockets narrowed. "That's ENOUGH!"

Upset as they were, all three trailed off into silence and fell still. Jack drew himself up to his full height.

"We're going back to Skellington Manor, and you three are not to touch each other _or_ say a single word unless I tell you otherwise!" Every one of his pointed teeth was bared. "Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Three little nods.

Jack set Shock and Barrel on their feet. Sally lowered Lock to the ground. The walk back was silent except for the occasional sniffle from Barrel. When she noticed that the skeleton boy was limping, Sally picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to the manor. More than halfway into the trip, Lock got his nerve up and raised his hand. Jack nodded once and acknowledged him. "Yes?"

The devil boy wrung his tail in one hand. "What are you going to do with us?" he muttered.

Jack's brow knitted. "Well, for starters, you're going to help clean up the messes that you've made."

For once, not one of the three had a thing to say. * * * *

Shock pulled the guest bed's sheets tighter around her. Not three feet away, Lock tried to get comfortable on an overstuffed chaise lounge. Barrel lay curled up like a dead bug on an air mattress in the corner. The manor was so quiet that they could hear ghosts moaning off in the distance. Lock tossed and turned and punched his pillow. Shock turned over onto her tummy. Somewhere in the massive old place, a pipe creaked. The trio lay still as the manor settled eerily around them, feeling their separate aches and pains. All three were significantly bandaged and taped up. They had yet to break Jack's earlier speak-unless-spoken-to rule.

Something creaked across the floor, thumping periodically as it went. Shock twitched as her mattress juddered. She rolled onto her side and sat up on one elbow and noticed that the chaise lounge was now pressed flush against her bed. Lock's yellow eyes met her green ones. Without a word, the witch girl slipped out from under the covers and slid down to the floor. Her tiny feet barely made a sound as they hit the floor. She crept to one end of the air mattress and Lock to the other. Without a word, they dragged the air mattress to the guest bed and pressed it against the foot.

Barrel's head came up. The other two only met his eyes for a second before looking away and climbing back onto their respective mattresses. The skeleton boy was still for another minute. Then, without a word, he crawled into the guest bed and joined Lock and Shock in the middle of said bed. The three curled up in a knot of limbs and pillows. Shock reached out and pulled a comforter over them. Then, without a word, the trio closed their eyes.

A/N: Hello, dear readers! Hope you liked! I shall update whenever inspiration hits, and inspiration is a fickle creature. Therefore, weekly updates shall be tried for, but cannot be promised. ..if that makes any sense. Did you know that every time you review, an author gets its wings? Please leave a review, whatever you're thinking so far…they really do mean the world.

P.S. The kids watched Coraline.


	6. Catfight

A/N: No, I didn't get fried in Oogie's lair and eaten! Still alive! Still updating! (waves at you guys) Thanks ever so much to new followers. You've no idea how much your following means to this story. Merry Christmas and happy almost New Year. Hope you enjoy this new installment! Reviews of any size and shape are craved and much appreciated. Lock, Shock, and Barrel are eager for any feedback on their latest shenanigans. ;)

_Poke. _Lock growled, swept one hand over his face, and rolled onto his other side. Shock made a protesting noise and pinched Lock in her sleep. Lock grunted and unconsciously pinched back. A short pinching match ensued. When it was over, Lock nuzzled deeper into the pillows, the threat of waking already- _poke._

This time, the finger found a bruise. The devil boy's eyes snapped open to an extreme close up of Barrel's face. _"WHAT?!" _

The skeleton boy withdrew his hand before anything unpleasant could happen to it. "I'm hungry."

Lock fixed the youngest trick-or-treater with a laser-intensity squint of disbelief. "You woke me up for THAT?"

Shock's hat-headed mess of split ends left the pillows. "Why are we yelling?"

"I'm not yelling," Barrel clarified, "Lock is."

"Only 'cuz you woke me up for your stomach."

Within ten seconds of this statement, Lock's stomach made a sound somewhat akin to one that the trio had heard when they'd once tried to put a whole rutabaga down an in-sink garbage disposal. Shock yawned and stretched. As her arms extended over her head, the witch girl's stomach added its complaint. The vote, it seemed, was unanimous: sunrise or no sunrise, it was breakfast time. * * * *

Lock led the way downstairs, testing for creaky steps. Barrel was right behind him. Shock trailed a foot or so behind the boys, rubbing her eyes. Inadvertently, she found a step that squeaked like a dying bat.

Both boys flinched and then rounded on her. "SHHHH!"

"Okay, oKAY," she hissed.

They crept down the stairs and tiptoed into the kitchen. "Do you think that Jack will be mad that we're down here?" Barrel whispered.

Lock glanced back to the stairs, as if the Pumpkin King could be summoned by the utterance of his name. "You saw how mad he got yesterday."

Shock planted a hand on her hip. "He got mad because we cleaned out half the fridge, spilled a bottle of olive oil in the cupboard, and ate the steak that he was planning to have for dinner."

Lock's scowl deepened. "Well, he's touchy anyway."

Shock peeked into the fridge, being careful to block most of the escaping light with her body. "Well, we're his guests now, right? He can't get mad at us for making breakfast-"

"-as long as we don't take too much," Barrel finished, nodding in agreement.

Shock peered into the fridge, her gloom-accustomed eyes squinting against the light. "Let's see… Jack has eggs, fruit, yogurt, sausage, and bacon. What do you guys want?"

The boys looked at each other, uncharacteristically lost for words. That was a question that they'd never heard in the tree house, where the meal choices were making the most out of whatever Shock could put together from what they'd all scrounged up, or waiting until Mr. Oogie got in the mood to brew some snake-and-spider stew.

"Eggs," Lock voted, too soon for Barrel to stop himself from blurting out, "Bacon."

The two exchanged another look and then turned back to Shock. "Omelets," both decided.

Shock practically had to climb into the fridge in order to retrieve the necessary ingredients. "Sounds good."

Her stomach rumbled at the mere thought of the hot, fluffy, end result. Lock's blue lips curled upwards in a predatory grin. Barrel rubbed his chunky hands together in anticipation. The rubbing was abruptly put to a stop when Shock shoved a log of sausage and a block of cheese into his arms. She thrust a package of bacon and a carton of eggs at Lock, effectively turning the devil boy's grin into a scowl. She leaned into the fridge once more and staggered out with a nearly full gallon of milk.

Barrel regarded her with a smidgen of concern. "You got that?"

"I think so," the witch girl grunted.

She struggled over to the counter and set the gallon down on the floor. Once she'd climbed onto a stool, Shock hefted the milk into her arms and strained to lift it onto the counter. The eldest trick-or-treater leaned too far forward, and one of her feet slipped. Before either of the boys could blink, she tumbled off the stool. The lid popped off of the jug as the jug smacked onto the floor. Milk splashed Shock, the stool's legs, the lower portion of the nearest wall, and a good deal of the floor as the jug rolled one and a half turns. It stopped, landed heavily on one side of its handle, and continued to vomit its contents into a rapidly expanding puddle. Shock shook herself and scrambled to right the jug. Lock chortled.

"Shut up!" she hissed.

The short-tempered ginger's eyes snapped. He'd been shushed several times too many. He snatched up the jug and bashed Shock over the head with it. Both stared at the cantaloupe-sized indent that had been made in the plastic.

Barrel peeked over their shoulders. "I think Jack's going to be mad."

"Oh, nice going!" Shock spat. She jabbed Lock in the eye with the jug's cap and stalked back to the counter.

"Hey, _I_ didn't push you off that stool!" Lock hissed, clasping one hand over his reddened eye.

Lock and Shock kept arguing- quietly- as Shock heated up a skillet and got the first ingredients inside it while Lock put away what Shock didn't need and rubbed at the milk mess with a towel that he was stepping on. As they bickered, a movement at the little window above the sink caught Barrel's eye. The skeleton boy tiptoed over and craned to get a better look at the object of his interest. A lean black cat was sitting on the windowsill. As Barrel watched, it tipped its head and raised one paw to pat the glass. Enchanted, Barrel took another stool and climbed into the sink. It took him a couple tries to pry open the window, but he managed.

The cat acknowledged him with a rusty mew and a flick of its tail under his chin. Then it picked its way onto the stool and leapt to the floor. It sniffed the floor and then bent its head to lap at the massive spill.

"Huh," Barrel said to himself, "Problem solved."

Once it had drunk its fill, the cat wound itself around the legs of Shock's stool and gazed expectantly up at the aromatic skillet.

Lock noticed. "I didn't know Jack had a cat."

Shock half-turned from her skillet. "Huh?"

It was at that moment that Zero drifted into the room. His eyes locked onto the cat's. The ghost dog's eyes narrowed and his pumpkin nose wrinkled. The cat's ears flattened against its head and every hair on its body bristled so they stuck out like bits of straw. Zero growled; the cat peeled its lips back from its tiny crooked teeth and hunched its back so high that it nearly had to balance on its toes. With a piercing, pugnacious, "WHUFF!", Zero lunged. Emitting an eardrum-rending howl, the cat tore across the tile floor like a furry rocket. By now, the unfolding drama had Lock and Shock's full attention. A screeching black tangle of gangly limbs and a furiously barking white blur careened into the living room.

Somewhere around the third crash, lights came on upstairs. Jack jogged downstairs, taking the steps ten at a time. As he hurried into the kitchen, Sally rounded the top of the stairs. Clutching a handmade robe patterned with spirals, the gentle ragdoll hobbled down as fast as she could.

"Zero!" Jack called, "Heel!"

Zero looked back at his master and whined, tipping his head towards his quarry as if to say, _Just five more minutes?_

The cat wasted no time taking advantage of the moment of distraction. It lunged from the top of the couch, clawed its way down Jack's skull and spine, and bit Sally when she reached out to comfort it. As smoke chugged out of the omelet pan, the cat hunched forward and puked milk onto the one relatively dry area of tile. Then it jumped into the sink, knocked over a bottle of dish soap, and sprang back out the window. * * * *

Jack turned to the trio as the boys crept behind the legs of the stool and Shock held the smoking frying pan in front of her for protection. When the Pumpkin King spoke, it was obvious that he was struggling to keep his voice calm. "Listen, you three- it's five-thirty in the morning and I have to get up in less than two hours. If you're upstairs and out of sight by the count of thirteen, we can deal with this mess later."

He turned his back, closed his eyes, and silently counted. When he turned around again, the three were gone. * * * *

Shock locked the guest room door, then helped Lock and Barrel barricade it with the chaise lounge. The three slumped to the floor.

"I'm still hungry," Barrel mumbled, hugging his empty stomach.

"Oh, shut up," grumbled Lock.


	7. Laying Down the Law

A/N: Happy New Year, dearest readers! The plot bunnies have been feeling generous, and I am only too happy to comply with them and present to you a new installment. Even though this ride is far from over, your feedback of any kind is like water to a goldfish. …not really exaggerating, you guys. (And gals. **Waves**) By the way, it's not my intention to make Barrel overly fixated on food. I don't think he's fat, and don't want to make him seem like a foodie. But this is just the way the story is turning out. Anyway, enough yammering. Welcome to 2014 and another healthy dose of Fun!

"I say we make a run for it, right now, while he's sleeping."

Shock regarded her red-headed cohort with a combination of disbelief and scorn. "In case you've forgotten, we don't exactly have anywhere to go back to."

Lock allowed his tail to lash, trying not to show just how much that fact rattled him. "So we can live on the streets."

Shock snorted. "Because we're so popular in town."

"Are you going to sneer at everything I say, or are you going to help tie these sheets together?" snapped Lock.

"Can we have breakfast before we go?"

"Wait a minute!" Shock demanded.

Four sunken eyes gave her their attention, two smoldering, two sleepy.

The witch girl planted her hands on her hipbones. "Look, I don't like this arrangement any more than you guys do. But until we can figure out a way to get ahold of a steady food supply, and protection from our prankees, we're stuck here. It's just something that we're going to have to deal with."

A silence followed her words.

Then, Lock grumbled, "At least with Oogie, we got to listen to stuff getting devoured alive."

"Jack will probably have some really gross habits, too," Barrel offered, consolingly.

"Being raised by wolves worked for Mowgli," Jack mumbled.

Sally regarded the kitchen. "It isn't _that_ bad, Jack."

Jack yawned the gaping yawn of the truly sleep deprived and pressed four knucklebones into his skull. "Compared to what?"

Sally shrugged, then reached up and touched his shoulder. "I can clean it."

The skeleton king's sockets widened. His brow furrowed, and they squinched back to slightly below normal size. "I couldn't leave you with this mess."

"I'll just get the barf and the milk that'll stain if it's left where it is."

"Even so, that's a considerable task."

She straightened the collar of his nightshirt. "Jack, you need your sleep."

"So do you."

"I only have a few deliveries to make for the witches tomorrow- you're going to be busy until dinnertime."

"Or later, depending on our dear Mayor's state of mind."

"See? You need to rest. Don't worry about the kitchen."

"But-"

She touched his lips with one tiny finger. Instinctively, his hand rose up to secure hers. He sighed, tickling Sally's finger somewhat and making a smile flit onto her lips. "At least let me get the barf."

They set to work taking back the kitchen.

"Do you think that your kitty is going to be okay?" Jack asked.

Sally nodded. "She'll be fine. She just had a lot of excitement for one morning."

"Funny, I can relate."

Sally laughed softly as she rubbed at the fridge with a paper towel. "How's Zero doing?"

"I sent him to his grave to cool his heels for a while." Jack straightened, threw away several vomity paper towels, and washed his hands. He laid a newly cleaned hand on Sally's shoulder. "Thank you, Sally. I won't forget this."

Sally smiled shyly and twisted a milk-stained washcloth in her hands. Jack kissed her and staggered back upstairs to salvage what precious little remained of his downtime. Sally waited, cupping one tiny hand to her ear and waiting until she caught the faint _slam_ of Jack's bedroom door. Then she lurched to her feet, set down the cloth that she'd been holding, and limped to the cabinet that contained plates.

The knock was so soft that only Lock, who was closest to the door, heard it. However, when he tensed up, the other two went on high alert. Wordlessly, they began feeling around in what little that Jack and Sally had been able to help them recover from the wreck of their former home. The three had only been able to find and salvage a few of their more durable weapons, but those would have to suffice for the time being.

"Who is it?" Lock asked, taking a mace from Barrel and sliding it behind his back.

"Room service," answered a quiet, non-masculine voice.

The three relaxed just a hair knowing that Jack wasn't standing just outside waiting to beat their heads in. Still, they didn't set down their chosen weapons.

"I smell food," whispered Shock.

That was all the persuasion that the trio needed to decide that it was worth the risk to open the door just a crack. Barrel and Lock pushed the chaise lounge aside, and Shock opened the door just wide enough so she could peek out with one eye. Two scarred blue hands held three stacked plates. A singed omelet, as well as a knife and fork, rested on each one. Shock whipped the door open and snatched the plates, then darted back into the room and slammed the door. She slumped to the floor, bracing her tiny back against the door. Instantly, Barrel sprang into her lap, fumbling for a knife and fork.

"Hold your horses!" Shock complained, "You're smashing me!"

Lock grasped a handful of Barrel's shirt collar and dragged the skeleton boy off of Shock. "Don't wreck the food."

Barrel obediently sat down and fiddled anxiously with his utensils. Shock set a plate in his lap and a plate in Lock's lap. The instant each got it, he dug in like the omelet would jump up and sprint away in a burst of cheese if it wasn't promptly subdued. Shock attacked her breakfast with no more ceremony. Sally waited outside for them to finish. When the growling and munching stopped and the utensils stopped clicking, the gentle experiment spoke again.

"I want you three to help me clean up downstairs."

The three looked at each other and groaned. The fact that they had no satisfactory reason to object made the request all the worse. * * * *

The cat stared distrustfully from outside one of the living room windows as Lock helped Sally place books and knickknacks back on the downstairs bookshelf.

"So that's your cat, not Jack's?"

"She's not really mine," Sally told him, "But she's followed me around on and off ever since last Christmas Eve."

"Do you have a name for her?" Shock asked.

Sally shook her head and assisted the witch girl in lifting a lamp off of the floor. "She doesn't really have one."

The trio exchanged one of their three-way glances. This fact, apparently, was about to change.

"Skeletor," Lock immediately offered.

"Fishsticks," Shock volunteered.

"Kitty."

Both of the older trick-or-treaters stared at Barrel. He knitted his hands together. "What?"

Lock shook his head as if he was hoping to roll that particular suggestion right out of his brain. "Killer."

"Snickers," Barrel suggested, hoping to redeem himself.

They went through several more possibilities, such as 'Shadows', 'Stitches', and 'Death'. (Guess which one was Lock's.)

Then Shock tipped her head like an owl and suggested, "What about Nightshade?"

A smile flitted to Sally's lips, only a few teeth shy of a full-out grin. None of the three knew why- had they said something funny? A moment later, the almost-grin left her face, and the quiet ragdoll nodded in approval. "That would be perfect."

"Nightshade it is!" Barrel happily concluded.

The newly christened Nightshade vigorously scratched her ear, yawned, and jumped down from the window frame. * * * *

The figurative fireworks began when Jack came home that night. He and Sally had agreed the night before that they were going to need to implement and enforce several house rules for the safety (and sanity) of everyone in the manor. And so the Pumpkin King and his dearest friend sat facing three wary trick-or-treaters, who were contained at the moment but verging on becoming hostile. Jack held Sally's hand. Periodically, he'd stroke the cloth stretched over her knuckles. Shock noticed, and almost instantly the gesture began to seriously annoy her.

"Now, I know that it might not seem so to you, but staying here is a _privilege_." Jack started.

Lock rolled his eyes, Barrel looked unimpressed, and Shock outright snorted. Softly, mind you, but still a snort. Jack pierced her with a warning glance, and she folded her arms and averted her eyes.

"And if you're going to stay here, you're going to have to follow some certain rules."

This statement was greeted by an outpouring of groans.

"They're nothing that Sally and I don't already have to follow," Jack told the three.

Sally smoothed out a sheet of paper in her lap and then passed the paper to Jack.

The master of fright took the paper, cleared his throat, and read, "Rule Number One: you must knock and get permission before coming into someone else's room."

"What about Zero's room?" Lock challenged, almost before Jack had finished his sentence.

Jack rested his left cheekbone on one fist, trying not to become visibly impatient. "Zero stays with me. Now stick with me here." He moved on. "Rule Number Two: Nightshade is an outdoor cat. She does not belong in the manor, and she isn't allowed to have people food."

"That's two rules," Shock interjected.

Jack scowled. "If you please."

Shock raised her hands just slightly from her lap, as if the Pumpkin King had just shown her that he had a gun in his pocket.

Jack continued. "Rule Number Thr- Four: no fires inside unless they're in the fireplace."

As he and Sally had predicted, the trio erupted in protests.

"Even if they're _controlled_?" Barrel exclaimed.

Jack raised his hands and waited for the three to quiet down. They did, oh-so-reluctantly. "That's the rule."

Lock folded his arms so tightly that he looked like he was about to snap in half. Shock swung one leg moodily. Barrel looked both disappointed and worried. The paper crinkled slightly as Jack peeked at the next item on the list. He huffed out a near-silent breath. "Oh boy."

Sally squeezed his hand and gazed up at him reassuringly. Jack squeezed back and gave her a weak smile. Then, drawing on the strength that Sally was giving him, the Pumpkin King turned back to the trio and asserted, "Absolutely **no** use of weapons inside."

The three screamed, "**WHAT?**" with three different voices and one inflection.

They rose from the couch, shouting and wildly gesturing. Sally raised her free hand, trying to calm them, and Jack yelled in vain for order. The evening went downhill from there.

(This doesn't bode well! By the way, the cat's name totally isn't meant to rip off 'Nightshade's Tales', a story written by Internet friend and fellow writer The Cat Loving Kid. You should check it out. **shameless plug**)


End file.
